


comme un grand trou qui se creuse

by elle_stone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clubbing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, MWPP Era, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_stone/pseuds/elle_stone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One moment that defines their relationship, and two to explain how they got there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	comme un grand trou qui se creuse

**Author's Note:**

> Written in February of 2008. 
> 
> The title is from Jean Anouil's Antigone: "Quand tu penses que je serai a toi, est-ce que tu sens au milieu do toi comme un grand trou que se creuse, comme quelque chose qui meurt?"
> 
> My translation: "When you think that I will be yours, do you feel in the middle of you like a large hole that hollows itself out, like something that dies?"

i.

They were thirteen. It was dark out, not quite midnight, and they had pulled the curtains shut around the bed, and Remus was giggling into Sirius’s pillow. It really was a giggle, not a laugh, nothing so masculine, but Sirius was just glad to see him happy. He’d been sick again recently. Peter was forming crazy theories about degenerative diseases and bedridden Victorian ladies, but Sirius thought it must be something else. Something really obvious, which was just out of their grasp.

Slowly, Remus’s breathing calmed, and he let his head drop down soundly on the pillow and a smile creep up his lips. “Ah, ha, ha,” he said, “ha. I’m all right. I’m better now. Ah. That was a good laugh.”

Sirius was lying on his back, watching Remus only out of the corner of his eye. He shifted his shoulders a bit, then reached to put his hands behind his head. “It wasn’t that funny,” he said, even though it had been his joke, and he was a comic genius, so clearly it had been hilarious. Still, it was good to show some modesty now and again. “So…do you think you can get to sleep yet?”

Remus sighed. Sirius could tell, now, by a quick glance, that he had closed his eyes, but the answer that came was only, “I might be more awake than ever. Tell me something else.”

“Hmmm, okay.” He didn’t want to admit he was running out of stories, or energy, but it took him a few minutes to find something of interest to relate. “Well, did you hear about Louis?”

“What about Louis?” Remus asked, a bit drowsily now. Only Remus would actually start to get sleepy just as Sirius was sharing the best gossip in the school.

“He was caught in the third floor bathrooms with that Ravenclaw prefect, Benjamin, doing…you know.”

“Doing what?”

Remus’s eyes were still closed. He was falling asleep. That was the point, of course, but all Sirius could think was that he clearly didn’t understand the situation, and he should clarify.

“Having sex.”

Ah, well, that did it. Eyes open, features alert. But he tried to play it off, with just an, “Oh.”

“Don’t you get it? It’s…I mean…it’s kind of big news.”

Suddenly, Sirius felt, couldn’t help feeling, immature. It was the way Remus pulled in on himself. The way he sighed, and said, “Oh believe me, I get it, Sirius,” the way he rolled over onto his back in that exasperated way, the sad tone of him, the melancholy stare.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” Remus asked suddenly.

Sirius was only thirteen, and sometimes he could be, yeah, he would admit it, a little dense—not as dense as James and certainly nowhere near as dense as Peter—but some things always escaped him. This wasn’t one. Remus was staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t asking about Louis, or about Benjamin. He was asking—

Sirius closed his eyes. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose, like his mother did when she was angry. He didn’t feel angry. He was a bit scared. He would never admit it. “No,” he said. “No. Never. I mean—whatever Louis wants—whatever—makes—him happy.”

“Yes,” Remus answered. His voice had returned to normal, that magic Lupin quality he had to tune everything to mid-range, to make everything seem okay even when it wasn’t, really—to erase, if not the change itself, the appearance of a change. He pulled himself slowly up into a sitting position. “I think,” he said, “I think I should go back to my bed. Thank you Sirius. You’ve been helpful.”

Normally, Sirius would have fought him. He would have argued. You don’t need to go. I have another joke. But this time, he just turned his back to the shifting curtain that signaled Remus’s departure and whispered, just barely audible, “See you tomorrow, then.”

 

ii.

They were seventeen, and Sirius was the only one who knew. He had become adept at seeing Moony’s secrets, anyway, and after two weeks he stopped hinting around that maybe he should tell James and Peter too.

Usually, Remus was calm. “You know how Peter is,” he would say.

And Sirius would joke about it. “Yeah, unenlightened.”

But once, Remus, a jagged line of him leaning against the windowsill with his head in his hand, snapped out in some horrid pained voice, “Just shut up, Sirius, I don’t want to deal with this. My private life is my business and I don’t want them to know.”

Sirius had stayed up late that night, the common room deserted and lit only by a few stray candles, staring down into the deepest center of the fire and wondering. How could Remus still be keeping secrets from the Marauders? And why wasn’t he keeping Sirius out of it too?

Mostly, he was just a guard. Your hair’s unusually mussed today, mate—looks a tad suspicious. Maybe you should cover up that giant bite mark on your neck. 

Later, he was confidant. Pale April sunlight streamed in through the window and lit blonde highlights in Remus’s hair. He played with the shoelaces on his boots. Didn’t really look up at Sirius much. Whispered, mostly. Like he was afraid someone would hear.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I mean—he has an ex. I don’t…have any ex’s. I can’t compete. He…I don’t know. It’s awkward, around this other guy. I’m so…fucking jealous I don’t know.”

“Well, he’s with you, isn’t he? Can’t still be too enamored of that other bloke.”

And fuck but every conversation was so cliché. He just wanted to—reach out—something. Remus seemed so small.

They had been broken up for three weeks before Sirius found out, and somehow, that hurt more than all the rest.

 

iii. 

Sirius will turn 19 at midnight. They’ve gone into Muggle London, and Remus has found them a club with blasting music and swinging bodies and barely enough room to move let alone dance, and anyway, Sirius has never been much of a dancer but he’s out of school now and there’s a war on and his best friend is engaged to be married, fucking married, and none of that is here because it’s Remus. Right here. He’s not really dancing either, but he’s sort of moving to the sort of rhythm, and the push of people is bringing them closer and closer.

Someone bumps Sirius from behind and suddenly Remus is against him. He’s afraid to fall down, afraid to move, afraid of everything, everything, so he shuts his eyes and grabs Remus’s shoulder and pulls him close. Oh, oh, this is something he knows. It takes a few minutes, but they adjust to each other. Rhythm to match rhythm. Sirius opens his eyes and sees Remus is staring into his. He closes them again. Remus is gripping at him. He grips back. He imagines they are alone. Fuck those people. Fuck everything. His heart is beating too fast and he can’t breathe. He has to take great, gulping, breaths.

He opens his eyes to see Remus again. They are so close now he can’t tell if Remus’s eyes are open or closed. Remus’s head tilts, just slightly, to the side. Sirius wonders, wonders like a painful stab, if Remus will kiss him. Oh fuck, he wants Remus to kiss him. He shifts his head too but only their foreheads touch. He has never in his entire life been this close to another boy. He feels ill. He feels wonderful. The sensation will stay with him for days, live on his skin erased only slowly by the passage of time. Doubts will creep in. Was he interpreting something wrong? Was this just an accident? He squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can. He pulls at Remus’s shoulder, as if they could get closer, and lets all of his thoughts fall away.


End file.
